


soaked in symmetry

by headaches



Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M, Post-High School, fix-it fic of sorts because i have higher hopes for sam, i also didn't watch all episodes of icarly so pls don't yell at me if something doesn't seem to fit, i didn't watch it, i originally had this in all lowercase so if you see any errors no you didn't, sam & cat didn't happen in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headaches/pseuds/headaches
Summary: This is how it’s supposed to be, Sam reminds herself as she watches Freddie smile at the girl in his arms.Freddie was supposed to find the girl of his dreams - someone who would love him in all the ways that she couldn’t - and Sam was supposed to convince herself that as long as she doesn’t end up like her mom, she’ll be fine on her own.
Relationships: Freddie Benson/Sam Puckett
Kudos: 7





	soaked in symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello! i just want to preface this by saying that after rewatching a few icarly episodes recently, i can't help but view sam as a girl who is portrayed to thrive in shadows. she is her own person, but with the dynamic between carly, freddie, and sam in the show, all we get are snippets of her character's background: a shitty mom, a runaway dad, constant comparisons with how different she is to carly. like, not to be Sadge () or anything, but... that kind of stuff is damaging towards a girl growing up! how did no one talk about that? and also PLEASE?? THE I LOVE YOU SCENE BETWEEN HER AND FREDDIE??? come on, that was huge! 
> 
> anyways. i wish there was more background and more context on my girl sam and what she experienced, so... hopefully i can provide that with my take on how i think the show should've gone. 
> 
> side note: i mentioned this in the tags, but i didn't watch sam & cat. therefore, none of what happens in that show is going to be referenced. i also haven't seen every episode of icarly, so please don't come at me if the characters seem a bit out of character. thanks and i hope you like it :')

Sam still remembers how sick in the stomach she felt the night of the Girl’s Choice Dance. A lot about that night made her feel anxious and confused, and perhaps even a little bit angry, but it was a reality check nonetheless. 

It was ages ago, back when all those little things - like being rejected by Gibby, or scrounging to find an outfit for the dance, or seeing Carly and Freddie fit together like pieces of a puzzle - shouldn’t have mattered. 

But still to this day, Sam can’t force herself to deny that all those little things _did_ matter. 

It started with Gibby. 

Getting rejected by him, of all people, was one thing. But getting rejected because a boy like him knew he could do better was another, and that was what triggered Sam's attack, really: insecurity masked by menace. Something she’d been putting into existence since the day she witnessed her own mother shout at a man who tried to sneak out the front door after spending the night at their house. Sam knows now that it was done out of fear for her mom and not their cat, Frothy, but at this rate, what’s the difference?

And then it was Pam.

The sun was already setting when Sam had realized she needed to swallow her pride and ask her mom if she could borrow something to wear for the stupid dance, but it was instant regret the moment the thought surfaced. It didn’t help that all Pam did was laugh in her face, asking which boy had said yes to the terrifying idea of being her date. 

And that was how Sam found herself digging through her closet once more, hoping to find something Melanie might have left behind. 

The saddest part is… She still showed up at Gibby’s house unannounced, thinking that him running away from her at school was just a joke. It clearly wasn’t. He had himself a strawberries-and-whipped-cream date with a radiant girl named Tasha, and Sam had a date to the shitty dance with absolutely no one. 

She ended up going to the park by their school after that. No way was she going back home just to hear her mom gloat about how right she was, that a boy had to be psychotic if it meant agreeing to being Sam's date. So Sam kicked off her heels, sat on a swing, and wondered when Carly or Freddie would send her a text asking where she was. 

And then it was Freddie. Or Carly. Or maybe them both. 

When the text finally did come, the dance was over and so was Sam's irritation with how dreadful her night was going. She was ready to forget. 

She took a cab to the Groovy Smoothie, glad she’d be seeing her friends again (and hopefully sneak a bill or two out of Freddie’s wallet to buy herself a drink), but that was until she walked into the building. 

Just when Sam thought she’d endured enough for one night, she spotted Carly and Freddie with their arms around one another, swaying to the kind of music that used to make Sam's skin crawl. 

And just like a lot of things back then, Sam didn’t understand it. Carly always turned Freddie down, was always quick to shut down his fantasies, but there they were… Looking like a sight for sore eyes, looking like they were made for one another. 

In hindsight, Carly was, in every way, perfect for Freddie. She stole his heart from the very beginning. She was sweet to him, she cared about him, she admired him - and hell, she was even his very own protection program from Sam Puckett herself, especially when Sam would take things too far. 

Carly had the brains, the beauty, the ambition, the gentleness, and yet, the only thing that always stopped Carly and Freddie from happening… Was Carly - until that night, Sam supposes. 

She remembers seeing them and wondering why they were so _close_ , Carly's head on his shoulder and his hands on her back, along her waist. It must've meant everything to Freddie, getting that far with someone he’d loved since the day he laid eyes on her. Something Sam would have easily teased him for had she not felt the yank in her chest at the sight of them together like that, at the sight of his fingers splayed across Carly's side and back like he wanted to touch more of her. 

Sam wondered then, and she wonders now, if Carly would’ve let him. 

What an awful night.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sam blinks and Trinity is staring at her skeptically. A furrow pulls between Sam's brows, and she tells Trinity that she’s fine. Because she is. Really. Their apartment feels too warm, and she kind of wants to strip and take a cold shower just to wash away the memories, but for the most part, yeah. She’s fine. 

When Sam doesn’t say anything, Trinity puckers her lips, sucks on her teeth, and glances away all at the same time: an unconvinced look if Sam has ever seen one. “You just look like you saw a ghost, is all.” 

_Yeah_ , Sam thinks. _The ghost of my childhood_. 

“Well anyways,” Sam says, ignoring Trinity's comment. She claps her palms against her thighs and rises from the couch. “I need to get ready. Carly’s having some get-together at her brother’s place now that everyone’s back in town for the summer. Apparently, summer vacation means we _all_ need to see each other again.” 

Trinity chuckles. “What kind of gathering are we talking here? A party?” 

“No clue,” Sam shrugs, heading into the bathroom and flicking on the light switch. She keeps the door open so they can still hear each other. “She just told me to look presentable and that she invited people from high school.” 

“Sounds like a reunion.”

Sam sees herself in the mirror and shakes her head. Her bangs have refused to cooperate with her all day, and now she’s starting to think they might just be a lost cause. “She knows better than to surprise me.” 

“You know, sometimes I forget how much younger you are. I keep thinking we’re the same age.” 

Sam doesn’t take offense. She and Trinity met by chance. Melanie had mentioned something about a friend she made in boarding school and how her older sister was transferring to a university in Seattle. That older sister is Trinity, and, at the time, Sam needed a roommate.

She plugs in her straightener and Trinity sees. “Oh, it’s a straight hair day?” she teases.

“I need to make it look like I have my shit together.”

Trinity laughs and calls her stupid. Sam smiles. 

+++

By the time Carly asks Sam where the hell she is, Sam realizes she is later than late. Trinity had left for dinner with her boyfriend a couple of hours ago, so Sam… well, Sam has no other excuse than the fact that she’d lost all sense of time and daylight, watching a documentary on seahorses. 

She arrives in pure Sam Puckett fashion, a packed bag of sliced salami in one hand, her clutch in the other, and not a care in the world written all over her face. “Not to worry, Carls,” Sam says when Carly opens the front door. She stretches her arms, reaching out to hug her best friend. “I have arrived.”

Carly gawks at her as soon as they part. “Everyone left half an hour ago.” 

Sam's brows twitch as she surveys the apartment. It looks the same as it did when the Shays first moved in and unpacked - save for a few ‘Welcome home!’ decorations from the party, as well as sculptures that have been replaced by some of Spencer's more recent work. 

Unfortunately, however, Carly is correct. The only other person Sam sees in the kitchen is Gibby. 

“Hey, Sam,” he says with both a spoon and a tub of peanut butter in front of him. Nothing else. He sticks his spoon in, scoops up a lob and starts to lick it. 

Sam doesn’t respond, just sends him a disgusted look. Isn’t that her job?

“Wow, you look different.” 

Sam lifts a brow and glances back at Carly. She realizes Carly is talking about her hair. Or her outfit. Or her makeup. All of which has gone to complete waste now that she knows she’d missed the party. 

“Good different,” Carly adds with her signature sweet smile. 

If sam plays her cards right, she might just get away without being lectured on punctuality. Sam looks towards the floor and hides her grin. “Eh, blame my roommate. She gives me pointers I never ask for, but hey. At least mama feelin’ hot.” 

“As you should,” Carly laughs. “Her name’s trinity, right?” 

“Yeah - look,” Sam says as she takes a giant step forward and shuts her eyes closed to show off the eyeshadow she applied earlier. “Glitter. Are you proud?”

“Ooh, and it’s pink,” Carly giggles. “Very proud indeed.” 

“Thanks. So what did I miss?” Sam asks and walks into the kitchen. Before opening the fridge to set aside her salami for later, she yanks the peanut butter and spoon away from Gibby’s hands. He yelps in protest, but Sam doesn’t let up. “Trust me, Gibs, it tastes better in a sandwich.” 

Carly shakes her head and chuckles. “You didn’t miss much. Just everyone catching up and talking about how their first year of college went.”

“Ugh,” Sam says with an eye roll. “Good thing I missed it then.” 

“Sam…!” Carly chastises. 

The elevator behind her dings and Sam peers over her shoulder, expecting to see Spencer. 

Instead, she sees Freddie and for the first time in months, Sam doesn’t say anything upon his arrival. Her lips unknowingly part, eyes gravitating towards his shoulders and arms - and then onto his outfit: a collared shirt and dark jeans, and it’s a shame he looks this good. Sam feels an urge to slam him against the wall, arm barring across his throat. 

She remains speechless for as long as he stands in the elevator, and then she’s scrunching her nose at him the second he approaches her. “Ew, what’s wrong with your shirt?” 

Freddie makes a face and glances down at himself. “Nothing. What’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing,” Carly chimes in for her, still bubbling with pride. “That’s glitter on her eyelids. Be proud.”

“Since when do you do _glitter_?” He does that stupid smirk his mouth does whenever he thinks he’s got the upper hand, and Sam’s fingers twitch at her sides. 

Freddie's neck looks good enough. 

To strangle. 

“I thought we established years ago that I don't need to explain myself to you, Fred-wad.” And then she’s bumping her arm against his. It’s only a little bit friendly. The rest is to remember his touch like she used to. 

He senses the friendlier side, she thinks, and he smiles at her, takes the hit like he’s always done. “Right, right.” 

“Can I have that back now?” Gibby complains, fingers wiggling at the peanut butter. Sam rolls her eyes. He had the most random growth spurt when they were still in high school, so now he just looks like a giant toddler when he whines. 

“Alright, fine,” she says, turning the jar on its side and rolling it across the table. “But you don’t get any water if I catch you double dipping.” 

“Then toss me another spoon,” Gibby huffs. “Must you always torment me?”

“She wouldn’t be Sam if she didn’t,” Carly chirps. 

“Very true.” It's Freddie who concurs. 

Sam looks over at him again - this time, ready for a fight - but what she sees makes her pause, mouth drying and at a loss for words. Freddie's eyes are scanning all over her. From her bangs, to her mouth, to her neck and collarbones, to where her straightened hair ends around her waist. 

Time feels like a funny game then. Almost like it never passes. Or as if it’s constantly repeating.

This is the look he gave her on the night they broke up. The look he gave her before he left for college. The look he gave her when he called her drunk in his dorm just a month and a half ago, his roommate peeking over his shoulder and asking if she was the girl from home he always talked about. 

Too much of God-knows-what fills her lungs then - poison, maybe - and Sam resists the itch to cough into her sleeve. She drops her gaze and stares at the countertop and evens her breathing, but more than anything, she hopes nobody else catches him. 

Or her.

“Anyways…” Sam straightens her back, small dent between her brows. Freddie shifts his weight and leans against the countertop and it makes her tense. She is more than aware that their arms might touch again if she doesn’t put enough distance between them, so Sam shoves him away from her and watches him lose his balance.

It's hilarious that Carly and Gibby don’t even react - because they’ve seen enough of this to know it’s never painful enough to actually send Freddie to a hospital - but Sam doesn’t laugh. 

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asks instead, hoping to distract herself. “Where's Spence?” 

“He’s at Socko’s, said they had something important they needed to deal with,” Carly answers, oblivious to whatever is emanating between her two best friends. Why is this their normal? “Hey, why don’t we have a movie night? Just like old times? I think Spencer has some beer in the fridge we could steal.”

“Sure. I could order us some pizza,” Freddie suggests. 

Sam wants to bite his head off just from hearing his voice so soon - especially after that stunt he pulled, looking at her like that - but fuck, pizza does sound good. She sticks a finger in the air, ready to order even though no one’s even reached for their phone to call the pizzeria yet. “Can we get a -”

“Pepperoni and sausage? Extra pepperoni, extra sausage, side of ranch?” Freddie is back to smirking, the moment shared between them now dissipated into thin air, and Sam narrows her eyes at him, annoyed all over again. “Oh, don’t give me that look. We might’ve all gone our separate ways for college, Sam, but your food orders never change.” 

Her tongue pokes out to lick at the corner of her mouth. There’s nothing else for her to say. He's right as hell _and_ he knows her too well. 

“Yeah, whatever. You’re buying,” she grumbles.

Freddie chuckles. “Missed you too, Puckett.” 

+++

It can feel like they’re in high school again if Sam closes her eyes and allows the alcohol to imagine it for her. 

They’re spread out in the living room, Gibby and Carly on the floor, dozing off on a couple of pillows, and Sam and Freddie are slouched on the couch, eyes on the tv. 

The lights are still off from when they first put on the scary movie Gibby chose, but the litter of empty beer cans and pizza boxes on the coffee table stand as proof that the four of them are feeling it now, either tired, full, or buzzed. For Sam, it is all of the above.

Sam yawns, and it makes Freddie turn his head to look at her. She doesn’t feel snappy like she did earlier, nor does she feel the swarm of flutters in her stomach resurface, so she ignores him. 

But Freddie has other plans. 

“You straightened your hair,” he says just as Sam starts to think he’d fallen asleep facing her direction. 

She swipes a finger beneath her eye and shrugs. “Am I not allowed to straighten my hair?” 

“No, you are. I just -” Freddie is still staring at her. He pauses and contemplates his words. “It’s different.” 

This catches Sam's attention. She glances at him and raises her brow, giving him the skeptical side-eye. Through the television light, she can make out his features and his expressions. He looks wary. Like he is ten times more cautious about what he should say out loud and what he should keep to himself moving forward. And Sam hates when she notices this. His overthinking makes her overthink, and those overthinking days are only assigned to when she visits her therapist. 

“Carly said the same thing,” Sam comments, not quite sure where the conversation is leading. 

“I, uh…” Freddie starts, hand reaching up to grip the back of his neck. The muscles in his arm look like they’re about to rip through his shirt, and if she hadn’t noticed she would’ve told him to spit it out already. 

Sam swallows and looks back at his face. When he first started working out, she was still able to beat him at arm wrestling. Sam hates to admit it now, but she worries Freddie might actually take her down if she decides to challenge him again. 

“It’s nice. Er - well, I mean…” He stops entirely and it’s silent for a bit. Sam doesn’t realize she is holding her breath until Freddie speaks again. “No, yeah. You look nice, Sam,” he finishes. “You look good.”

Sam turns her head fully this time. The insult is coming. They can both feel it. 

“Thanks.” She doesn’t mean to lower her voice but it comes out like that anyways. “You look good, too.” 

Freddie's gaze drops to her mouth, and, like a trigger, Sam sucks her lower lip in. She watches him shift, knee inadvertently bumping into hers, and it’s moments like this that Sam remembers why she fell in love with him. 

When she first shared that story with Dr. Urai, he listened to her with his hands folded on his lap, intrigued that such an angry, helpless girl like herself experienced loving anyone at all. 

Well… Okay.

Dr. Urai never _actually_ admitted to thinking any of those things - and it’s really just all in Sam's head - but she still guesses he must’ve thought it at one point. 

Sam came to her therapist at one of the lowest places in her life she had ever been, something she hid from Carly and Freddie for as long as she could.

What she endured on her own was terrifying, really. Her mom had just cut her off, she was in need of a quick source of income and a place to stay, and all of her closest friends were off to college, off to experience life outside of Seattle. Sam was stuck, alone and lost in a place she once considered home, and it was horrible. 

See, Seattle is one of those cities that gleam with opportunities. It's rainy and touristy, sure, but it’s because of that Sam was able to get her first gig right after graduation at a news station where she was asked to run errands for her coworkers. Of course they noticed her from iCarly and thought her experience would be fitting. They just didn’t tell her that the position would make her feel like she was slaving her youth away. Even Sam knew she had bigger wants for herself. 

But part of growing up in such a populous city, everyone is either wanting to see the commotion or wanting to get out. And for Sam, it was always out. 

She had even vowed to her mom at seven years old that she’d move out one day. Head to Hollywood and make a name for herself with whatever talent she could offer. Of course it was a big thing for her to say at such a young age, but it was a goal to achieve nonetheless. Something her mom should’ve encouraged. 

How unfortunate that Sam still vividly remembers Pam cackling at her like all of her biggest dreams would never come true, just like Pam would whenever she’d get high off poppers. Sam wonders if maybe her mom really was high that day. It would partly explain why Pam was always sniffling and blaming her headaches on her daughters. 

Sam got offered another job with higher pay at a bookstore two weeks later. Of all the goddamn places. 

Carly and Freddie were quick to tease her about it, too, but it stopped when they eventually learned of Sam's living situation at the time. Carly even got so worried that she had asked Spencer to let Sam stay in her room while she was away for college, but Sam had refused. 

(Sam had also told Freddie she’d rather stab her eyes out and serve them to the strays outside his apartment complex than stay with his mom and suffer. He didn’t even argue with her.)

Sam did a lot of growing up upon stumbling across the apartment she’s renting out now. She hated every minute of learning the ups and downs of what it takes to be an adult - because for God knows how long, Sam was the laziest, most unmotivated person anyone had ever met. 

But Dr. Urai… It was him who’d saved her life more times than she can count, really. Him who pulled her out of her slump. Throughout all her stress, he’d taught her the ways of balance and boundaries and how they could apply to her day to day life if she hung in there and really tried. 

Which is what she did. Try, that is. 

Sam tried so hard, in fact, that she sometimes forgets she’s finally at a point in her life where she feels somewhat at peace. 

“I missed you,” Freddie whispers and it startles her more than it should. He’d joked about it earlier and it meant nothing then, but looking at him in this light as he shares a look with her that’s softer than any of the other looks he’d give her in front of their friends, Sam is hopeless. 

“We’re here now,” she says, careful not to say too much too soon. Careful not to cave. 

_I missed you, too_ , is what she really means. 

+++

They’re back to snipping at one another the morning after, and it goes to show just how far they’ve progressed as friends: not very far at all. Or at least, that’s what Sam likes to say to him because she knows it pisses him off. 

However - just like most of their relationship - intimate moments they share get swept under the rug. Whatever it was that happened last night, it is as if it didn’t happen at all. 

Sam and Freddie are back at the Shay household, and Carly is just about finished with cooking them all breakfast. 

“Spencer's still not back?” Freddie chuckles. 

“Nah,” Carly says. “He called me after you guys left last night and asked me to take care of the place until lunchtime.” 

Sam makes a face, unconvinced that Spencer was ever in the middle of anything important overnight. “Let me guess. He had to pick out a new pair of socks.” 

Carly lights up. “Yeah!” 

“I was joking.”

Freddie laughs and grabs a bacon off the plate. 

He's about to take a bite after pulling his chair out for him to sit, but like a cheetah after its prey, Sam lunges forward and yanks the strip right out of his fingers. Their bodies collide on accident, and Freddie's hand lands on her hip to keep her from tilting further into him. Sam is too immersed in the piece of meat to realize he keeps his hand there longer than he should. 

“You know,” Freddie starts, helping Sam upright and watching as she chews. “I think I liked you better when your hair was straight. You weren’t as mean.” 

Sam's hair is indeed untouched, still wet from the shower she’d taken before leaving her apartment, but it’s already beginning to curl as the ends start to dry. He’s so dramatic. Sam rolls her eyes, clearly unfazed. “Oh, please. You love my hair,” she garbles over her food. 

“Straight hair means a nice Sam?” Carly asks, amused. “We should test out that theory.”

Freddie's phone vibrates loudly against the table and all three of them see his screen light up. The contact reads: _Alana_ , followed by a red heart, and Sam is the first to react, frowning at the name for a split second before hurrying to serve herself a plate of eggs and bacon. She keeps her face hidden.

“Shit, sorry,” Freddie reaches for his phone like he’s in a panic and swipes at it to answer. 

He leaves the kitchen to answer the call and Sam hates what she sees more than what she hears, but she hates it all the same. Freddie's voice goes all soft, and he uses a disgusting pet name that makes her jaw clench, and he smiles at nothing like he’s on nitrous oxide. 

“So, what,” Sam dares herself to ask. “Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend now?” 

Carly chews and swallows her food before talking, the saint. “Yeah, her name’s Alana. Wait - he hasn’t told you yet?” 

“No.” Sam stares at the table like it’ll provide her with answers if she looks hard enough. “Well… I don’t know. I guess why would he?” 

Carly doesn’t even stop to consider it. “You’re one of his best friends.” 

“Okay, well he didn’t,” Sam mumbles. 

For some reason, she feels out of her own body and Carly seems to notice. “He did mention _he_ wanted to be the one to tell you -”

“No, it’s fine,” Sam says before using her fork to poke at her eggs. “It's not like I care anymore about who he dates.” 

“Sam…”

“I don’t!” Sam forces herself to laugh. “He can date whoever the hell he wants, Carls. And he can tell me whatever he wants, too. If he doesn’t want to tell me about his new girlfriend, he doesn’t have to.” 

Carly looks at her the same way she always does when she tries to read in between the lines, but she doesn’t say anything else, thankfully - because Sam knows Carly will always see right through her. 

For how brilliant the guy is, Freddie can be such an idiot. 

What the hell was he doing looking at Sam like that last night when he is - quite literally - in a relationship? And for how much time has passed, how can still she be so careless feeding into it? Where the hell did that fucking rug go? Is it too late to grab a broom and keep all those sickening feelings hidden away forever? 

“He’s such a wack job,” Sam says under her breath, unconcerned that Carly might’ve heard her. 

+++

Freddie comes back like nothing happened and Sam keeps her head down for the rest of the morning. He tries to poke fun at her quietness, because he thinks she’s doing it just to rile him up, but Sam socks him in the arm once and he doesn’t say a word to her again until noon when she gets up to leave. 

“Hey, so I'm heading back to my place,” Sam says, more so to Carly than to Freddie. 

“Aw, you don’t want to stay for lunch?” Carly sits up from where she was stretched out on the couch. “Spencer should be home soon.”

“No, I’m good. I, uh…” Sam pauses and then glances skyward in thought. “Gotta feed my roommate's cat.” 

Carly squints at her, calling her bluff. “She doesn’t have a cat.” 

“Not that you know of,” Sam quips, matching her expression. Carly shakes her head and Sam drops the act, too. “I’ll see you guys later or something.” 

Freddie quirks his head a bit. “Hey, I haven't seen your place yet, Sam. Can I come -” 

“No.” And then Sam is on her way out. 

She hears Freddie ask Carly what he’d said to piss her off so much, or if he did anything wrong, and it makes her face twitch even more. Does she mean to be this icy towards him, this early in the day? Of course not. Does it surprise her that she is? Yes. It does. 

Because what’s the point of scheduling her weekly appointments of therapy if it means going back to the way she used to be? Meeting with Dr. Urai, someone who is there to guide her through all the years of pent up aggression she’d grown within herself, has helped her improve so much of her well-being. 

It irritates her then that there’s still a piece of Sam that is angrier than she should be. Because every time it comes to Fredward Benson, she can’t seem to grow out of their old habits, and it drives her nuts.

It’s not to say that she hasn’t matured since graduating high school - because, fuck, does it feel strange having to pay for her own bills, now that she’s no longer under Pam’s roof - but Sam hates how far back in time Freddie takes her whenever they’re together. It feels like all of her personal growth, all of her progress, just… Deteriorates. One layer at a time. 

“Sam!” 

Sam pauses and her lips press together on instinct, blood simmering. His voice is louder than she anticipates, like it isn’t just asking for her to turn around, and she hates it. She hates it so much. 

She continues walking. 

“Sam…!” Freddie calls for her again, this time his footsteps follow. “Sam!” 

His large hand is on her arm, and she feels her body react to it like it’s being touched by him for the first time - an unwelcome memory. Goosebumps rise on her skin and a shiver runs down her spine. 

Fuck this. She doesn’t always have to be this soft. 

“What?!” She turns around, yanking out of his grasp and away from him. “What do you want?”

Freddie flinches but recomposes himself quickly. “What was that back there?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit, Sam. Just tell me.”

“Yeah?” Sam's lips hold back a sneer. “Why don’t _you_?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to understand, just blinks at her with his lips parted, and god - she swears she is going to implode. “What do you mean?”

Dr. Urai once told her to try counting up to ten whenever she feels her heart rate accelerate, especially if it is due to anger. if that didn’t work - because he’s probably had patients who've tried every other trick in the book - he recommended taking deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. (They agreed to check back in on whether those methods work on her or not. Sam is still figuring it out.) 

“Earth to Sam?” Freddie waves a hand in front of her. God, he irritates her. “Hello?” 

“Augh!” Sam shrieks, hands curling into fists by her sides and eyes squeezing shut. She doesn’t get to see his reaction, but maybe it’s for the better. “Just stop talking! Holy fuck, Benson.” 

It takes exactly nineteen seconds for Freddie to carefully put his hands on either side of Sam's shoulders, ten more seconds for her to calm her breathing specifically after that. She knows this because she counts them all. 

“Why am I the last to know?” Sam asks when she finally finds her voice again, still rigid beneath his hold on her. Freddie's face softens, and now he gets it. “I don’t care that Carly knows first - that’s not what I’m trying to get at - I just… Why does it feel like you didn’t even _want_ to tell me?”

Freddie is still breathing through his mouth. The rise and fall of his chest is heavy. Maybe it’s from chasing after her. Maybe it’s something else. She shouldn't care, but she does. 

“I…” He doesn’t exactly meet her gaze. “Alright, just hear me out.” 

Sam doesn’t have all the patience in the world, but she’ll do it. She crosses her arms, causing his hands to fall back to his sides, and she waits for him to continue. It fucks with her head, but he always looks good like this, when he’s directly in front of her and she’s forced to look him in the eyes. When they were together, it was something she never admitted out loud, but now she wonders if maybe she should’ve. If maybe their relationship would’ve turned out differently had she been more vocal with him about what she wanted and didn't want. 

Freddie's tongue grazes across his lower lip. “I don’t really know how to to say this without sounding like an idiot -”

“I mean, I _have_ heard you say a handful of stupid things,” Sam comments, urging him on. Her arms are still crossed, and they both know her stance acts as a barrier between them. She is always guarded. “Wouldn’t be anything new.”

Freddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Just get on with it already.” 

“You’re the first girl I ever really loved.” Sam's eyes narrow, wondering if he’s stealing that line from one of the last nights freddie was still in town and she’d confessed that to him on a whim. “And no, I’m not just saying that because you did, too,” he reads her mind. 

Sam shrugs, hopes she looks like she can care less. “What’s your point?”

Freddie's brows give in to the pull. “You’re also one of my best friends.” 

That one gets to her. Sam’s shoulders loosen and so does her glare. “Okay… Same…”

“So…” He pushes onward, appreciative of her patience so far. “I don’t… I don’t really know how to do this - you know, like… Tell you things? What we had was -”

“If you say the word ‘special,’ Freddie, I swear to God -” 

“No.” Freddie holds up a hand to cut her off. “What we had was _real_ , Sam.” Sam can only stare at him after that, frozen. Surprised. He seems to search for something inside her then, reciprocation maybe, but what he picks out instead looks like doubt. “Er - it was for me, at least.” 

They were kids when they first met. Sam hated his guts because he was smart and nerdy and everything else her mom wished for her to be, and it was a tragedy from the get go. Everything about it, followed by everything about him. 

Evidently, their worlds clashed when Carly brought them together. Carly was their mutual, Freddie's neighbor and Sam's best friend, and he fell for the girl next door while Sam watched it happen. 

Somehow, along with their distaste for one another, they shared a first kiss and Sam thinks it snowballed from there, the feelings she developed towards him. Because how do you share a first with someone and not wonder whether or not it meant anything at all? 

She kissed him again when he thought she was in love with a boy she hardly even noticed. Maybe she kissed him again to prove a point or to shut him up or to follow Freddie's cheesy advice in telling her to go with her intuition. Maybe it was to see if a shared second would mean more than the first. 

Sam supposes it did. The two decided to date after that. It was more of a rollercoaster than a relationship - if she really thinks about it - but it taught her so much about loving someone more than herself. 

Now, as they stand face to face, she still loves him all the same, will forever treasure the memories they made together - but God. The idiot. How can he not know that?

Freddie glances down at his shoes like a sad, little puppy when Sam neither confirms nor denies, and Sam swears under her breath, knowing he hears it. Freddie sure knows how to test her. She loves him but she swears she hates him more. 

Sam doesn’t say anything when she drapes her arms over his shoulders, bringing their bodies closer. She feels Freddie's hands on her waist a mere second later, and his touch makes her sigh, mouth grazing his neck as they hold each other. “You've lost your mind if you think I didn't feel the same way, Benson,” she murmurs, breath on his skin. 

His fingers squeeze gently at her sides and she giggles. “It’s hard to tell sometimes,” he jokes, smile heard in his voice.

“Yeah, well try harder.”

“Does this mean you’re still mad at me?” 

They separate and Sam smiles back at him softly. “No.”

“Good.” 

“So what, are you gonna tell me about this Alana girl, or do we need to fight again?” 

Freddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. Sam fights the urge to peak at his muscles this time. “Yeah, maybe we can get lunch or something this week? Catch up then?” 

Sam nods, “You can come over after. Since you haven’t seen my apartment yet.” 

“I’m down. Friday work for you?” 

“Friday works for me.” And then, just to remind him that she hasn’t gotten too soft, she adds, “You have my number, Fredison. Just text me.” 

Freddie grins, and Sam watches his smile gleam against the sunlight. He makes his way back to the apartment complex, and Sam heads home to feed the nonexistent cat.


End file.
